InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Feni's Ficlets ❯ The Howling ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

 

A/N: This silly, seasonal crack!fic was created in response to the always-Forthright's Hallowe'en Drabble Challenge on LiveJournal, and was first posted on 31 October, 2006.

 

The requirements for the drabble included an alternate pairing, an appearance by Naraku, a pumpkin, a biting, and the line `That's just scary'. The rest of it is my fault…

 

 

The Howling

 

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“Oh, my goodness… what a dark and stormy night!”

 

“Nothing to worry about, my dear Lady Kagome. `Tis merely a minor tempest.”

 

The raven-haired young woman turned cerulean orbs onto the tall, slender man, observing his sardonic smile as well as the elegant cut of his satin waistcoat. She reached out and fingered the vivid red silk baldric slanting across his chest. “I suppose not, and we are fortunate to be inside with good friends, wouldn't you agree, Count von Naraku?”

 

“Perhaps you would care to join me for a post-prandial… drink?” he asked, eyes focussed on the inviting juncture of her slender ivory neck and shoulders, bared by the plunging décolletage of her Parisian gown.

 

“You must excuse me, Count von Naraku, but I am expected elsewhere. Good evening, sir.” She curtsied, and swept away down the carpeted corridor and disappeared into the conservatory. Naraku twirled a lock of dark hair between slender fingertips as he contemplated her posterior view, then smiled very broadly, exposing sharp white canines as he went over his cunning plan to sample the Lady Kagome's manifest delights and beat out that poseur Prince Sesshomaru.

 

Hurrying through the grand corridors, she briefly repaired to her own lofty chambers to be disrobed by her French maid, and attired very becomingly in a lace-trimmed chemise. Her luxuriant tresses were released from the ornate coiffure and secured by a simple ribbon at the nape of her neck. Kagome dismissed the maid, cast a longing glance at her heavily curtained four-poster with its linens invitingly turned down, and sighed before straightening her shoulders and exiting the room.

 

The attar of roses lingered on in her chambers until the tall French doors leading onto the balcony opened, allowing a gust of wind to skirl through the room. A tall, slender figure wreathed in long, silver hair and an extravagant white fur-trimmed opera cloak stepped inside and silently closed the pane of leaded glass. Quickly realizing his prey was not present, the yellow-eyed creature of the night smirked fangily and executed his plan to upstage that infuriating Count von Naraku and avail himself of Lady Kagome's delectable first blood.

 

The embered glow of the fire highlighted the exotic striping adorning his skin as he stripped off his white silk shirt and trousers, tossing them carelessly over the chaise lounge. Her French maid was a tasty morsel, and that kitchen wench… but they were just appetizers for the meal for which I have been saving myself. Climbing into the great bed, he closed the heavy drapes and reclined luxuriously in the scented linens, smugly imagining Lady Kagome's reaction when she discovered Prince Sesshomaru awaiting her. The anticipated enthusiasm was extremely gratifying, and he fell into a light doze as he awaited her return.

 

The young lady in question was at this very moment being relieved of her peignoir by her sinewy-thighed lover. Wet lips closed over her aching nipples, causing her to arch helplessly like a taut bowstring as a pair of strong hands gripped her hips and guided her down until her Temple of Delight was poised above an eager example of rampant male flesh. Kagome moaned heatedly, gripping her tormenter's wrists.

 

“Oooooh, Sango, my sweet…what a delicious surprise that the Reverend Miroku was able to join us tonight…”

 

“Only the best for your first time with a man, my love,” replied the dark-eyed beauty, nuzzling her way up Kagome's satiny throat.

 

“Lady Sango, would you be so kind as to be seated, and I may commence this voyage of bliss?” The rakishly-grinning owner of the fleshy weapon currently working its way into Kagome's hot, virginal sheath nibbled lightly on Sango's inner thigh, and the girl sighed as she sank down until his nimble tongue teased her Coral Jewel.

 

In Kagome's dimly-lit, underused bedroom, a dark wraith slipped through the keyhole and materialized on the rich Turkey carpet. Count von Naraku smiled in anticipation of achieving his goal… the sweet, delectable blood of a newly-deflowered virgin. Dramatically whipping off his cloak, he tossed it and the rest of his clothing on top of a white silken pile of fabric and stealthily parted the heavy tapestry curtain. The flickering firelight fell across a gleaming ivory throat connected to a shapely shoulder. The supine figure indicated by the heavy bedclothes revealed a slender, boyish form. Hm… she appeared more buxom when clothed… damn those corsets and bustles anyways! The scent confirmed that yes, this luxurious bed held a slumbering innocent… but not for long. Licking his lips, and readying his fangs, the Count von Naraku stripped back the covers and pounced.

 

On the other side of the mansion, Kagome, Sango and Miroku paused briefly in their experimental position, which involved a velvet bell pull, an antimacassar and a string of beads, at the high-pitched, blood-curdling howl that sounded over the keening of the wind, closely followed by loud crash.

 

The assistant gardener raced into the conservatory in his nightshirt and cap, swearing at the crystalline shards carpeting the floor. He stopped dead in shock as he spotted the carnage littering the raised bed that had housed her ladyship's pride and joy. “Sweet mother of pearl…” He pulled off his cap and bowed his head, honouring the wreckage of the once-proud, once turgid, once prize-winning white pumpkin, and then immediately visualized Lady Kagome's inevitable tantrum. “Bloody `ell… that's just scary!” he grimaced and scampered off in search of trousers, shovel, and broom. He missed the emergence of a dazed, slimy, silver-haired, buck-naked vampire prince that wobbled out of the wreckage of the pumpkin shell like some sort of rejected Cinderella.

 

In the shadows of the damaged conservatory, another silver-haired, golden-eyed youth waggled his fuzzy ears and smirked as he thoroughly watered the aspidistras…